


Flowers of Spring

by AbsoluteUn1t



Category: AP Lit - Fandom, John Keats - Fandom
Genre: AP Lit, AP Testing, Blow Jobs, F/M, One Shot, PWP, Plants, Voyeurism, seductive plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 21:44:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14680086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsoluteUn1t/pseuds/AbsoluteUn1t
Summary: Everything the AP Lit test warned you about...





	Flowers of Spring

**Author's Note:**

> Fuck you I made an ao3 account just for this

It was a beautiful, sunny day. The kind of sunny day that made the snow retreat back to winter, leaving room for Spring in all her glory. Spring, with white flowers adorning her breast and birds chirping their song for her ears; but John Keats heard the chirps, too. He did not fall in love with the chirps and the song, but rather, with Spring herself, and what she brought with her.  
It was on that beautiful, sunny day that John sat with his friend Olive Senior. They walked through the garden, surrounded by the buds of Spring and the plumes of colorful, exotic birds, much like the plumes of the Forsytes. Oh, how John despised the Forsytes and their denial of death -- John himself was not afraid of death -- he knew he would go on to write of Spring’s song even after his death.  
The two friends sat at a small picnic table in the center of the garden. Though they intended to use their time to write, it was always important that they catch up with one another.  
“How I love Spring,” John sighed. “She’s so beauteous. The flowers--”  
“Oh, the flowers!” Olive scoffed. “Don’t get me started on the flowers. They’re nothing more than colonizers.”  
“But don’t you find them beautiful?”  
“That’s what you think. You don’t realize that they’re Spring’s secret agents. Why, they flaunt their beauty to seduce -- they’re nothing more than ovaries! -- and they’ve managed to seduce you.”  
In that moment, John thought himself a fool. A pit grew in his heart. Was Spring’s beauty nothing but an illusion? A fanciful display to mask imperialism and gross reproduction? This humiliating feeling hung over him until Olive left, saying his goodbyes and leaving John with nothing but one last warning about the deceitful nature of plants.  
“It’s not true,” a voice said to him. It wasn’t until he heard the voice again that he realized it wasn’t his own thoughts.  
“Who’s there?” John inquired. The voice was sweet; feminine. His heart jumped, for he always thought the voice of Spring would sound something like it…  
“Behind you,” the voice said playfully.  
John turned round, then bent down, as a curious sight awaited him. There was a plume of dancing snapdragons, swaying not with the breeze, but with their own rhythm. John was instantly overcome with their beauty.  
“Don’t listen to your friend,” the snapdragons said indignantly. “He doesn’t understand our beauty like you do.”  
“Do you mean the beauty of Spring?”  
“Of course.”  
Keats’ heart leapt. Oh, that beautiful maiden… how he wished to hold her, to take her, but alas, she was but a concept. The closest he could ever get to her was in his writing.  
It wasn’t until he heard a giggle from the plants that he realized he had said the words aloud. His face immediately reddened. Indignantly, he stood, turning away. He needed to go somewhere else. He must be going insane. Flowers can’t talk!  
But before he could leave, the voice beckoned him again. “Oh, sir, please stay. Spring is more than just an idea. We’re Spring. Every flower in this garden is Spring!”  
“Why would you tell me this?”  
“Didn’t you just say that you wanted to feel Spring?”  
John could not deny it. Though he grew embarrassed, he bent down to examine the snapdragons. Their beautiful pink petals were dripping with Spring’s nectar, an image which elicited an excited reaction within the poet.  
“Go ahead, John,” the flowers beckoned. “Spring can’t bring Summer all on her own.”  
With a quick look about, John verified that he was indeed alone in the garden, save for the presence of the seductive maiden all about him. All the flowers took a collective breath as John bent to sniff the snapdragons, breathing in their alluring aroma. Oh, sweet Spring! Sweet maiden! He could resist her no longer!  
The lilies giggled as the poet removed his trousers, and the snapdragons seemed to open their pink tresses wider. Upon entrance, Keats felt an ecstasy he had never felt before. His mind swam with images of Spring -- she had been dormant for so long. Now, she coaxed out not only the creatures and flowers, but him, as well.  
The snapdragons moaned at the pleasure, closing around John. The virgin lilies looked on in envy as the snapdragons were thrust into by the man, whose seed was coming closer and closer to joining those of the plants’.  
“Proliferate with us,” the snapdragons moaned. “Together, we can colonize the whole world!”  
What alluring and deceitful devils these flowers were, indeed! Though John dare not say it aloud, for fear of betraying Spring, he knew Olive was right. However, in his pleasure-driven haze, he only noticed the flowers around him. They began to take him deeper, and finally, the build-up in his gut unravelled, and the flowers were pollinated.  
As John came down from his high, he heard the curious giggles of the lilies and the blissful sighs of the snapdragons, the indulgence of the vines and the literal primrose path laid out for him.  
“Look around, dear,” the flowers beckoned. Indeed, to his satisfaction, Spring was now in full bloom -- flowers that had been but mere buds minutes ago were now wide open and welcoming to the bright sun rays.  
Though John intended never to speak to anyone -- let alone Olive -- of his submission to the seduction of the flowers, he would forever write of Spring. He could never let himself forget her captivating beauty. And from them on, every Spring, he would help bring the plants one step closer to conquering the earth.


End file.
